Not unlike a long-form version of Tim Robinson’s hilarious “I Think You Should Leave,” Netflix sketch show, but with a coherent narrative structure holding it all together, A24’s dark comedy, “Friendship,” is hysterically funny and sometimes disturbing look at friendship, loneliness and obsession.
Written and directed by Andrew DeYoung (“Our Flag Means Death,” “Pen15”), in his feature-length debut, it’s nearly shocking that Robinson didn’t have a hand in creating or shaping the movie in some manner; it’s absurdist, wtf, batshit sensibilities are all his. One would think he would have a writing credit, a story credit, or even a executive producing credit, but nope, he’s an actor of hire in a project seemingly tailor made for his cringe comedy affinities.
READ MORE: Summer 2025 Movie Preview: 50 Films To Watch
Whatever the case may be, DeYoung gets Robinson, Robinson gets the filmmaker and co-star Paul Rudd is more than game to understand his more straight man-ish role in it all.
A tale of camaraderie gone wrong, “Friendship” stars Robinson as Craig Waterman, an unassuming marketing executive in small town Colorado who is preparing to sell his home.
Tami Waterman, Craig’s wife (Kate Mara), owns a successful flower shop business, and just successfully beat cancer, but she seems more interested in her son Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer) than she does her husband. Oh and she’s reconnected with her ex-boyfriend Devon (Josh Segarra), and seems suspiciously too interested in rekindling their “friendship.”
Adrift and without purpose, Craig is seemingly lit up when he meets his new neighbor Austin Carmichael (Paul Rudd), an eccentric, but super affable meteorologist. Incredibly genial and welcoming, Austin is soon inviting Craig over for beers, listen to music and hang out.
And Craig, given no consideration at home or at work where he is mostly shunned (shades of “I Think You Should Leave”) is over the moon at all the attention that Austin is giving him with all the hangout invites.
However, as Robinson is wont to do in one of his skits—again, it feels like DeYoung wrote it for Robinson and fitted it for him—he makes a deeply alienating misstep. One night over drinks while Austin is hanging out with his close friends and Craig in the garage, the lonely and awkward Craig, seemingly confused at being the odd man out with Austin’s buddies, seriously overdoes it during a friendly game of screwing around with boxing gloves and helmets and injures his gracious host. Austin’s friends perturbed with Craig for getting too violent with their friend, the night of fun is quickly shut down.
And from there, things escalate. Or de-escalate friendship-wise. Craig, acting like nothing happened, tries to resume their daily hangouts, but Austin estranged from the incident is cold and uninterested.
Quickly, he is icing Craig out and keeping his distance which compels the lonesome unusual man to become confused and distressed. Rapidly he becomes desperate to reconnect with Austin, goes to extremes to try and force a rekindling, and eventually becomes dangerously obsessed with reforming their friendship at any cost.
Of course, this being a vehicle for Robinson’s uniquely over-the-top, absurdist, cringe and awkward humor, “Friendship” grows progressively dark, gradually disturbing and hilariously unhinged.
Bizarrely gonzo and uproariously funny, it’s also impressive just how well the ensemble cast—especially Rudd and Mara—get the assignment: being rocks of human stability amid the hurricane of Robinson’s madness.
Rudd acts as the perfect foil for Robinson, holding his own, innately understanding the tonal tightrope of it all and never plays second fiddle to Robinson even though he’s not the lead.
The film is perennially peppered with lots of subtly, and not-so-subtly, LOL wtf?!? moments such as blink-and-you-miss-it flirting between Mara and her son.
As the third act suddenly veers into something much more nightmarish, “Friendship” turns utterly bananas and yet, never loses sight of itself and the balance between insane ludicrousness, and a more serious story about a man who has nothing.
As laugh out loud sidesplitting “Friendship” is, it quietly anchors itself with psychological underpinnings that resonate with the audience—even if they’re laughing too hard to really notice. Deceptive and sly in this regard, while DeYoung’s movie excels in the kind of excruciating embarrassment and agonizingly uncomfortable social faux pas that Robinson has made famous with his brand of outré cringe, threaded throughout the base of the plot is a story about a profoundly isolated and unhappy individual, still living in a cage of arrested development, desperate and anxious to hold onto the one element of his life that brings him a sense of joy.
No spoon-feeding dialogue is needed here, DeYoung doesn’t spend a second, supporting the notion, but subconsciously inherent to the story is a tale of a very damaged soul dying for connection.
“Friendship” is awe-inspiringly twisted by the end, a jaw-droppingly comical tale of tragedy, even. But it is masterfully rendered; the rare movie seemingly built from a sketch series turned into a genuinely riotously amusing and f*cked movie that still has the sense to comment on the dark and totally warped corners of the human condition. [A]
